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Hi! My name is Linh Nguyen. I am going to tell you about God’s loving care through my personal story. A Thanksgiving prayer in Vietnamese starts like this: O Lord! Almighty and Merciful God, I thank you for not letting me be eternally nonexistent. You begot me as a human being, protected me, and made me your child in your church. Yes, I give thanks for God’s loving care. I was born in February 12th, 1969 in Truong Thanh village, Dien Khanh county, Khanh Hoa province, Vietnam. I was baptized in the Catholic Church. From then on, I was able to call upon God as my Father, the One who gave me life, and who loves, cares for, provides for, and protects me.
I have six brothers and a younger sister. I am the sixth member in my family. At present, some members of my family are living in this country, but we are scattered in Cincinnati, Palm Beach, and Houston. I still have two brothers with their families living in Vietnam. Wherever we are now, we all have memories of a place where we went through happiness and sadness as a result of the Vietnam War. There is a parish church named Ha Dua located in the central Truong Thanh village which is under the supervision of Nha Trang Diocese. By the way, Nha Trang is a beautiful city in Khanh Hoa province which now attracts tourists from every where in the world because it is near the ocean. Christians in Truong Thanh village are devout and united. Their jobs are closely connected to farming. The common religious practices are focused on daily mass in the early morning and evening prayer.
From the time my mother brought me into the world until 1975, I was a happy, playful kid. In 1971, our house was hit by two mini-rockets launched by Vietcong from a distant mountain. The house was greatly damaged. But fortunately we were all OK.
After our house was damaged, my parents decided to build a bigger house with a thicker roof to protect us. It was a very big, beautiful house located in the Dien Khanh historical citadel. Again, this was the time of a terrible war between the Thieu government in the South and Viet Cong in the North. The war escalated year after year. And it was at its climax in the year 1974. Dien Khanh where I lived at that time was not a territory of big combat between the two sides. There were quite a few small skirmishes between the local Republic Army with the Communist guerillas.
My remembrance of that war is of seeing military ambulances carrying wounded soldiers to the hospitals. My father was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Republic Army of Vietnam. He was Chief-of-Staff of the training camp located in Duc My, Nha Trang. Occasionally, my dad took me to that training camp. Whenever I was there, I would get up early, probably about four or five AM. Through a window, I watched training soldiers marching across the camp to the drill-grounds. The image of those training soldiers gave me the concept of discipline which has been very important in my life. The slogan such as “the more sweat at drill-grounds, the less blood in battlefields” helped me understand how to prepare myself for the real world. In short, from the day I was born until 1975, my family had a comfortable life.
In year of 1975, the Viet Cong invaded and attacked South Vietnam. It was about 10:00 am when my father and a group of inferior officers hurried to our house. He urged all of us to get ready for a temporary evacuation. Instead of departing right away, my dad asked my mother to prepare a meal for the whole family and that group of officers. In the meantime, he had someone drive back to the seminary to pick up my brother who was studying there. We could finally take our leave at 2:00 pm. We were accompanied by a convoy of about twenty to thirty GMC military trucks with training soldiers. It was too late for a possible evacuation.
There was a helter-skelter scene on the street leading to the South. Traffic was jammed. Some soldiers of the South threatened the evacuators at gunpoint to open the lane. When realizing that they could not be together, my father dismissed the convoy. We continued evacuating towards the south. That evening, military policemen stopped the jeep of my dad occupied and directed him to an area for regrouping. He decided to leave us at the house of a relative. He took the two oldest sons with him and continued to the south.
After Nha Trang was taken over, we eventually returned home. The whole house was looted, probably by neighbors. Most of our properties were lost. When Saigon was defeated, my father was taken into a disguised re-education camp for hard labor along with thousands of other Thieu government staff. This place of hell daily consumed my lovely father and he finally died of a serious illness two years later. This occurred while our house and properties were being taken by Vietcong. You know! This was a time for them to take revenge with us. In order to take our house licitly, they used demagogic words such as they just wanted to borrow our house in the interim for urgent needs of the new government.
At the police station, my mother was forced to sign the document to lend our house to them. When she resisted, they kept her there without food and drink until she signed the document. Ironically, though they said that they only borrowed our house, they cunningly occupied our house and listed all properties. They forbade us to take with us any properties that belonged to us. Then several years later, they declared that our house was confiscated. I was eight years old at that time, but I could realize the danger of the new government to the fate of my family. My family moved to our ancestor’s land in Ha Dua parish church. We built a new house with whatever materials we had. You can imagine how ugly it was. In particular, it was as hot as hell because the roof was made from metal sheeting. This reality made our blood boil and caused us to be hostile to the new government.
But as a boy at that time, I learned to be helpful to my family. At the age of eight, my duty was to take care of my younger brother and sister, and two cousins, while I cooked the meals for all twelve of us. Our isolated lives were controlled and restricted by the local government. They wanted us to move to the forest area where they called “a new economy district.” This was a merciless policy of Vietcong to push the people into dangerous forests to make those lands become habitable lands. Two of my brothers sacrificed themselves and accepted that policy in order to allow the rest of us remain at Dien Khanh.
Fortunately, the government allowed every son and daughter of old South officers to continue their potential education up to their high school degree. We appreciate and are grateful to our lovely mother who sacrificed and withstood hardship to help us get our high school degrees. I earned mine in June, 1987 and my dream of attending a college or the university was deferred because the governmental educational policies denied university admittance to ex-Army Republic Vietnam officers’ children.
During the time I was in school, I was sometimes a rebellious student. The school tried to spread propaganda about their wonderful socialist community that brought independence, freedom, and happiness to everyone. But I saw what they did was to cause the whole nation to become a big prison. They made the people from the North to the South suffer from many stupid, ugly policies. As an example, they applied a policy that products of a locality had to remain within that area, unless they were sold cheaply to the government. The entire country was stagnated. Everyone who tried to carry their products to another area was accused of being smugglers. My brother and I were arrested once for smuggling. I was released due to my minor age, but my brother was kept in jail.
I was also arrested once after my high school graduation for not registering myself to the armed forces. At that time, the Vietnam Communists created a terrible war with Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. Many soldiers who were sent there came home with amputation of legs or arms. Khmer Rouge wanted to bring down Vietnamese economy. Therefore, they used the type of landmine that just cut part of the body of the one stepping over it. When the large number of disable soldiers came home, they did not receive any support from the government. Being so upset with the fact of life, they acted fiercely and became crises to the people. It was reported that a number of Vietnamese soldiers who were in Cambodia stole weapons and escaped on foot to Thailand. A lot of them were sons of the officers of the ex-Republic Army of Vietnam. Therefore, I was again released. However, I could not see any promising future at all.
At that time, I felt that my life was being led by a parade of star-crossed events. But now, as I look behind the unexpected and expected events in my life, I am amazed to see God wonderfully providing for my needs, protecting me for my well-being, and preparing for my future life. In my observations, the insignificant turns in the road, the seemingly unimportant events, and often unexplained happenings – all were part of God’s loving care.
After graduating from high school, I was totally lost. I was confused about my future and did not know what path I must take. On the one hand, I was not allowed to enter any college or technical school. Not only that, I could not even apply for a job as a simple worker. The reason for that was that I was a Catholic and the son of the Old South officer, a betrayer according to the government. I followed my brothers to work in the forest. It was a hard, laborious work.
At times, I felt bitter in my heart when my brothers and I rotationally carried a yoke to plow the field, because we did not have any ox, or plowing machine. But through it, I loved my brothers all the more, insofar as they put brave faces on a bad situation. We planted rice, beans, and sugar canes on the wild land. Our work depended on natural rain and good weather. It was always worse when we did not have good weather or when wild animals destroyed the field.
I got malaria many times and even typhoid. That had a very negative impact on my health and strength. And at one point, I was on the edge of death. I could not walk. I needed assistance in order to walk. I lost my hair. And I was weak as a kitten. At the same time, though my flesh failed, I never lost sight of God’s goodness. You know! Nothing can cause us to doubt God’s goodness more than affliction. But I believe that God could use my problem for eventual good, although I could not see how at that time.
When I got sick, I could bear it myself. But it was hard for me to watch my brothers suffer from their sickness. One of my brothers could not stabilize his life in those difficult situations. He became depressed. His sickness became more severe due to the lack of medicine. Once, he attempted to commit suicide by taking many sleeping pills. As a result, he went into a coma. Our family at that time faced severe financial trouble. We could not do any thing for him due to the expensive cost of the hospital. Of course, my natural affection toward my older brother prompted me to do something for him. I transported him to a local hospital. He received no treatment there, because that hospital was a transitional station. At that time, I was distraught and I wished that he could leave this world, so that the burden to my family could be lightened, especially to my mother. Later, with the assistance of another brother, we managed to demand another transport to the modern hospital in town. It was beyond the doctors’ power to save him. He was in coma for three days. Eventually, he woke up and little by little recovered his health a month later. I was with him most of the time. The hospital required that serious patients needed to have their relatives functioning as nurses to assist them at all times. But the problem was that the hospital had no place for patients’ helpers to sleep and do their activities. Despite all of the difficulty of the circumstances, I was with my brother, negotiating with doctors or nurses for extra care, and praying and comforting my brother during his recovery time. Every time one of my brothers was in the hospital because of malaria or other health concern, I was there with him.
At that time, the Vietnamese government seized many Roman Catholic holdings. The government suspended the activities of many seminaries since they could potentially create “anti-Communist” cadres. In Khanh Hoa province, the only seminary, Sao Bien, was one of these. The whole seminary organization was disbanded except for the office of the Rector; and seven seminarians who were authorized for the Ha Dua parish church. Although Sao Bien was controlled by the local administration, the Rector and seven seminarian students continued its activities underground. This was a period of my looking towards the seminary’s image. I was influenced by their religious lives.
Prior to this time, I had a very simple vocational concept that I heard from my mother. She wanted me to dedicate myself to serving God. She also told me that a priest is blessed from God and that marriage can be a bad karma. Of course, I now understand why my mother wanted me to become a priest, since she could see a brighter future for me in that career. Most of families at that time struggled to make a living, and thus suffered badly. I would also like to mention here that my second and third brothers were also seminarians of Sao Bien seminary. When the government suspended the activities of Sao Bien, they returned home. Through Sao Bien, I was taught a great deal about vocation; the wonderful and mysterious ways of life.
Gradually, I became more connected to Sao Bien. Hence, I decided to join in a group of unofficial seminarians. Basically, we had very limited activities, meeting once a week to study catechism and the Bible; and to learn how to delve into the call of priesthood. The Rector just wanted to maintain the vocation among us, in hope that one day the seminary would be allowed to reopen. In 1992, Sao Bien was authorized to reopen at one location for three Dioceses: Nha Trang, Comtum, and Da Nang. The Sao Bien seminary was rebuilt at Nha Trang Diocese. The numbers of seminarians authorized for every two years is thirty, ten for each Diocese. The waiting list of candidates for admittance was long. In addition, the process of admittance was under the supervision of the governmental administration.
However, at that time, there was hope for us, as the United States immigration service set up a Humanitarian Operation program to allow the Old South Vietnamese officers who were in education camps for three years or above, and who died in there, to immigrate to the United States together with their families. The Rector recognized my potential immigration to the United States. Therefore, he would not officially admit me to study in the seminary.
It was July 17th, 1993, a day that would leave a most profound impression on me. My family immigrated to the United States. I am telling you in all honesty the scenario when we were at Tan San Nhat International Airport. When the bus carried us to the plane, one of my brothers and I got out of the bus first and we ran up the stair to get into the plane in an instant. We buckled up immediately and prayed that we were not in a dream. Anyway, this day marked a major turning point in my life and also that of my family. We had anxiously awaited it and put our faith on this one day. It liberated us from the pressure of a difficult life physically, emotionally, and psychologically. I could see a door opened for me to enter a promising future. In this country, I would rebuild my life. Here, I would have the necessary freedom to work, to study, and to maintain my dignity. God, the Father was with me and cared for my every need in every path. Saint Peter said, “Cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you.” I knew that God’s loving care would go on forever.
The first year in Cincinnati, I was helped by the federal government for my educational and medical needs. I also received help from our Vietnamese American heritage community. Later, when I was able to work, I applied and worked as a pizza delivery driver. I had this job for about two weeks and was laid off, because I found it very difficult to follow directions to deliver pizza to customers, and I only had my driver license for a month. Next, I worked as a busboy in the Samurai restaurant, now the Benihana restaurant in downtown Cincinnati. Meanwhile, I studied English at the Travelers Aid International located in down town Cincinnati – a school that teaches English as a Second Language. At this school, I observed characteristics and behaviors of students who came from the Four Corners of the globe. The school emphasized how important it is to be known and understood in English; their concerns and needs were addressed through reading about them, listening to them, watching them, and appreciating their experiences.
This was also a period of assimilation into the “gorgeous mosaic” of the U.S. culture. Following my adapting to U.S. culture, I saw that this country was a proverbial “Horn of Plenty.” Like a customer who walks into a department store or a supermarket for the very first time, I was simply overwhelmed by the sheer number of products and brands. I needed to decide which “brand” would allow me to restart my seminary studies. Eventually, I had the opportunity to meet Reverend Nguyen Tien Huan, who was (and is) in charge of the Vietnamese Christian community of Cincinnati. When he heard of my desire to restart my seminary studies, he told me that there was a large seminary in Cincinnati – Mount Saint Mary’s. The name attracted me immediately; its significance is similar to that of the Sao Bien seminary school; both schools have the name Saint Mary within their official appellation.
One day Father Huan introduced me to Reverend Mark T. Watkins, the Cincinnati Archdiocese Religious Vocation Director. A cursory personal interview was arranged with him. With his assistance, I was invited to join a ministerial evening at Mount Saint Mary’s seminary. On that evening, we were invited to observe seminarians daily lives, to celebrate the Eucharist, and to have dinner. According to Father Mark Watkins, I was unprepared to study at Mount Saint Mary’s due to my lack of English proficiency and the fact that I was still adapting to U.S. culture. He advised me to improve my English and education by attending a college or university. It was a reasonable request since I am a non-native English speaker. I knew that studying comes by spoken and written words; these are best understood via ones’ native tongue. He also wanted me to take some time to consider what I wanted to do in the U.S., since it was my first year being in this country.
I followed the advice of Father Mark Watkins by attending the University of Cincinnati beginning in December 1994. Of course, I realized my insufficient preparation for this commitment, as I had given up school after I graduated high school in 1987, and only had worked with my brothers doing manual labor since then. I had just studied English for a year. But despite this, I had total trust in God that he would help me out if I was in college. He rescued me many times in the past; he would do the same to me in the new path of life.
The University of Cincinnati is a school of cultural divergence. My pronunciation of American-English was difficult for the native speakers to understand. My heavy Vietnamese accent was also difficult for me to make clear. My Far-East Asian appearance as well as my behavior made it difficult for me to enter the U.S. culture. After speaking aloud in class, some American students smiled and found my incomprehensible speech amusing. These generated feelings of being turned down for attempting to adapt into the U.S. culture. I felt like an outsider.
Although I confronted a lot obstacles, I mobilized all my energy, sacrifice, and perseverance to overcome them. A proverb states, “All things are difficult before they are easy.” I was willing to work hard, study, and happily accept all situations. “Accepting conditions as they exist, the situation can be surveyed and pronounced good.” When I surveyed the situation, I saw a major obstacle to my studying: my lack of English proficiency. I thought if I could challenge this obstacle, it would be easier to learn. Unlike many Vietnamese students who were afraid to take English courses, believing that their English would improve with time, I decided to confront my problem immediately. I gathered up my energy to hurdle this obstacle. A proverb states, “Diligence is the mother of success.” I was resolved to attain my objective. “It must either go forward or fall behind; to stand still is impossible.” Certainly, I wanted to go forward.
During four years studying at UC, I was recognized as an outstanding student and made the Dean’s list for eight quarters. In the course of studying, I had dual hopes. That I might obtain a good job in a company and that I could happily build up my future from there. But I also had a thought to study at the seminary because there would be fewer obstacles after completing my college studies. After four years studying at UC, I eventually graduated with a degree in chemistry in June, 1998.
After graduating from the University of Cincinnati, I got a job at Environmental Chemical Corporation as a Chemist in Cincinnati. My work dealt with inorganic chemistry. My employer and fellow employees there were friendly and treated me with respect. I admit that I had a good job, good position, and good salary. As I was from a poor country and had now obtained a little bit of success, I could help my brothers and other relatives in Vietnam.
One day, I arranged to see the Vocation Director Father Mark Watkins. I expressed to him my sincere desire to study in the seminary. I followed the process of admittance through psychological screening test, letters of recommendation, and so forth. I finally met the director of my company and told her my intention to become a priest. I quit my job and said good bye to that world. In a single moment, the burden of life was lifted out of my shoulders. All my fears, anxieties, and questionings dropped into God’s loving care.
I studied at the Mount for six years. The length of time I spent in the seminary provided me with plenty of opportunities to grow in wisdom and spirituality. It was not easy for me to understand the mysterious calling, especially a call to the priesthood. Six years in the seminary gave me the time I needed to discern whether I had been called by God to be his priest. I sometimes questioned myself about my vocation: The life in the seminary, the life of the priest, was it for me? In the course of studying there, I realized that the Call to Priesthood is a Call by name. The one called is commissioned by God, not by men. For instance, Isaiah 62:5 states, “As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you; And as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride, so shall your God rejoice in you.” In the Gospel according to the Apostle Saint John, Jesus said: “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever ask the Father in my name he may give you” (Jn 15:16).
The ordination to the priesthood eventually came. I was among my brother priests to give thanks to the Father for what he has done for me. On the day of graduation, I was so proud to receive two masters’ degrees in Divinity and Biblical Studies. Obviously, it was due to the tremendous effort of my diligent studying during the many years in the seminary. But I believe that was the ring, the sandals, the new clothes that the Father put on me after I decided to return home.
In every unsettling situation and circumstance in the seminary as well as in my new life as a priest, I can be sure of one thing, that I can not deny God’s calling in my heart. He has been calling me to dedicate myself to serving him. Of course, God has disciplined me and let me experience some painful consequences of wrong actions, but his plan hasn’t changed. He has called me to become his priest. Now, I can stand at the altar of God to celebrate the Eucharist in the presence of the almighty God. It’s a goal worth the wait.
I believe that Jesus is always with me. Day by day, he and I work hand in hand. He shows me the way to go. He blesses my work and takes care of me. I am assured of my vocation when I sing a Vietnamese religious song: “Oh, Lord! You called my name before you had created this universe. Oh, Lord! I am a sinner. I am not worthy for your call. But, when I hear your voice, my answer is: “Here I am.”
The story cannot be ended here if I don’t take a couple of extra minutes to tell you how God has loved me in a special way recently. On the trip of four weeks back to Vietnam in March last year, my left eye was inflamed severely in the fourth week. Before that, I was short-sighted and wearing a contact-lens or glasses of negative three (– 3). I immediately went to see a well-known eye-doctor in Vietnam. He told me that the inflammation was so bad and it may leave a permanent damage in my eye and the vision could get worse. However, because I let him know that I would go to Saigon and be ready to get back to the United States in the next couple of days, he gave me prescriptions for medicine that could potentially cure either the virus inflammation or eye fungus he had diagnosed. When I got back home, I immediately called the EIC center and set up an emergency appointment. They measured the vision of my left eye and told me that the vision was very bad. It was 20/100. I could only see shadows of things around me. The doctor gave me a prescription of eye-drops as a long-term treatment. Again, he predicted that the inflammation would leave a permanent scar in my eye. That would cause vision worse than I had before and I could potentially have double vision.
I have visited the doctor four times. Each time my vision got better and better. The last visit was in October. This time, the vision measurement revealed a miracle. My left eye has recovered to 20/20 without wearing contact-lens or glasses. I no longer need to wear contact-lens or glasses for my left eye. It was healed as if it had never been short-sighted or inflamed. It was a miracle. It was one more diamond that the Father, in his loving care, bedecked on my ring, a beautiful tunic for his prodigal son after returning home.
Looking back on my whole life, I now learn I need not fear life or death, today or tomorrow, time or eternity, for I am in the loving care of the Father. “All evil” meant anything that could harm me, but in God’s grace, he has turned into good the things I thought were evil.
Precious Lord, I praise you for your loving care throughout the past years. Above all, thank you that you are working in me – and I know you are not finished with me yet! | |
